The First Time (Rest in Pieces)
by KeepCalmFanFicExists
Summary: The time has come for Bellatrix Black to earn her Dark Mark. All she has to do is duel to the death with her opponent in front of all the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself. How will she do it? -explicit duel and death, please be careful.


_Warning: Graphic duel and character death, please read with caution, rated M for a reason._

 _Valkyrie Wittelsbach, an OC mentioned here, also appears in chapter 'Operation Valkyrie' of the fic 'In front of the Fireplace' as a protagonist along Riddle._

"Are you ready for this?"

"I was born for this moment, my Master."

"Then we shall begin."

* * *

The snow white hand twirled a wand of yew like a baguette in the air, and torches spread their dim yellow light to the cavern-like room, illuminating the hooded silhouettes that wore chiseled silver masks. Dressed in totally black robes, soft contrast with the rough stone walls, they were sitting in a virtual circle around what looked like an arena. A magnificent mosaic of twinkling emeralds adorned the centre of the ground; a human skull with a large snake immerging from its mouth.

The figure with the wand was occupying a wooden, throne-like armchair on slightly elevated ground, and was not wearing any kind of mask. And yet, it was not necessary for intimidation. Clearly a man, his facial characteristics, once beautifully carved by the most talented sculptor, were now blurry and waxed, but there was still that hint of superb looks on them. Disturbingly, the Dark Lord's nose was flat, and his eyes with cat-like, vertical pupils and crimson irises; flames were dancing ominously in their depths. His robes were jet black too, but much heavier and with deep corrugations and folds. And there, somewhere between rich layers of dark silk, a small girl was crouched. She had her head laid on the Dark Lord's lap, long shiny locks blending harmoniously with the shimmering cloth, and the Dark Lord was stroking the strands of hair with two fingers as if she were some bizarre, unearthly pet of tremendous beauty. She was also the only person in the cavern wearing robes in lilac instead of black.

If her presence had raised questions to any of the hooded figures, they did not show it. Their eyes, gleaming inside the slits of their masks, were focusing solely on the Dark Lord's white face, waiting patiently for... whatever was going to happen.

In deadly silence, the snake of gems stirred, its mouth opened wide and a chained man surfaced from the ground that had turned into liquid for a moment. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a well-trained body immobilized by electric blue chains that shot lightning all around. His face, deeply scarred from battle, had a blank expression as his cold blue eyes scanned his surroundings. The crowd and the Dark Lord seemed to make absolutely no impression on him. Instead, he smiled a sharp smirk and spoke in a low voice with a light foreign accent.

"Ah, the young Tom Riddle. I knew we would meet again. Think it's time to pay me back for my arm, ja?" he said, and raised his left arm, that was oddly stiff and covered in a thick blue glove.

The Dark Lord cocked an eyebrow sarcastically.

"Not quite," he said in a clear whisper that carried through the room. Then he turned to his silent followers. "For those who do not know our guest, let me make introductions. This man is Wotan Wittelsbach, Lord Grindelwald's former right hand man. He got in..." the Dark Lord's lips were twisted cruelly, "so much _trouble_ to be with us tonight, we should make sure we offer him satisfactory _entertainment_.

As you can see, Herr Wittelsbach and I go way back in the days he enjoyed taking apart women to rise in the ranks of a lesser lord than me. I was there when he, taken over by a murderous trance, killed and disemboweled Valkyrie Wittelsbach, the celebrated apprentice of Lord Grindelwald- and his own sister. Taking over the duel from the young lady, I offered him a token of my appreciation by..." now his eyes shone gleefully, "severing his arm. But he, the coward that he is, fled, interrupting in such a disrespectful way our encounter. Too bad for him that I can always track down those I wish to find...

This night shall serve as both a reminder and a lesson for you all. A reminder and a lesson, so that you know what happens to those who use such ways to gain my favour. I demand absolute respect among you, and no doubting of the hierarchy I have chosen. Whoever finds the arrangements... unsuitable, will suffer. And Herr Wittelsbach will be kind enough to demonstrate how much.

Wotan Wittelsbach, this is judgment day. Any last words?"

And with another flick of his wand, the Dark Lord loosened the electromagnetic field that kept the man captive. Instantly, Wittelsbach's right hand flew to his pocket for his wand. But no one attempted to attack him.

"These are not my last words, Riddle," he hissed. "Those words you will perceive as my last will be my cry of triumph as I kill you tonight."

The Dark Lord smirked broadly, teeth visible like a magician's ready to saw his victim in two.

"Ah, but I did not mention, did I? You will not be duelling me tonight, Wotan. My own apprentice will be more than delighted to perform their very first kill on you. Lucky man, you are, Wotan," he hissed back, and inclined his head ever so lightly.

All this time the Dark Lord had not stopped caressing the young girl's hair, but now she slid out of his lap as if she were made of thin liquid, descended into the arena and made a lengthy curtsy, bending her legs much further than the typical greeting of a female in a ball, her cloak and dress ruffling on the stone floor.

"Lord Voldemort," she spoke in a surprisingly powerful tone for such a small person in age and stature, "this will be the last time I address you like this."

And she turned on her heel to face her opponent, with a short curtsy this time, but the man, over two heads taller than her, was laughing hard.

"Is this a joke, Riddle? A little girl? Am I supposed to duel this child who should be playing with her dolls and dressing up for a ball? Are you really that scared of me, you want this poor girl to die so you won't have to face me yourself?"

"The fact that you are not afraid while she is staring at you like this, is further proof of your inadequacy, Wotan," Lord Voldemort shook his head dismissively. "Miss Black, this will be the last time _I_ will be addressing you like this."

Indeed, Bellatrix Black was gazing up at the older man with an expression of vicious hunger.

"The Dark Lord is always right you know," she whispered to Wittelsbach. "You will be afraid of this _little girl_ very soon. Ready to duel?"

The man sneered in contempt, but none the less set his wand in an offensive duelling position.

"Whenever you are, Milady."

Bellatrix jerked her head to the side like a feline about to devour its prey and, with an elegant backflip, landed on the opposite end of the arena. She looked up at Voldemort, who inclined his head once more, and dropped her cloak to reveal a simple mauve dress.

Bellatrix took her walnut wand out and raised it high above her head, as if she were summoning the air into a whirlwind. The tornado she had conjured swept through the arena causing airborne pebbles to catch fire and scorch everything in their way, and to attached Grindelwald's lieutenant, who managed to hide his astonishment quickly. With a broad, whipping motion of his wand, he cut the tornado in two, sending them back to their caster. Bellatrix diminished one with her wand, turning it into a soft breeze, and avoided the second with another backflip that, this time, brought her face to face with the only obstacle between her and the title of the Dark Lord's highest ranking Death Eater and apprentice.

They appraised each other for a second completely still, their faces an inch apart.

"Impressive," Wittelsbach commented dangerously, "very impressive. For a petticoat duel, that is. But if that's the best you can do, Fräulein, your end is near."

"You know, I've been waiting a long time for this, old man," Bellatrix sneered with a bloodthirsty twinkle in her dark blue eyes. "Because the Dark Lord couldn't find a worthy opponent for me. He thought it would be very boring otherwise."

Wittelsbach returned an equally haughty sneer and attacked. Bellatrix wasn't caught with her weapons down at all. They crossed fire and the spells clashed in mid-air again and again.

Both were duelling fiercely and in a very aggressive style. Bellatrix, to compensate for her short stature, kept elevating her spell attacks with various jumps and acrobatics. She was literally dancing fluently around the man with the elegance of a ballerina and the agility of a gymnast, while shooting spells and curses at him. With her young and open mind that hadn't totally settled upon a specific duelling style like her opponent, she mixed up curses with simple hexes and jinxes to take the grown man by surprise. But Wittelsbach, with his years and experience, wasn't fooled that easily. As he couldn't fire and duck with the same ease, he threw at his young opponent harsh, extremely powerful Dark curses that could kill her in the most painful way, blast her into a million pieces and turn her blood into acid.

Bellatrix, not in the least intimidated by the demonstration of knowledge of the Dark Arts, returned his offenses with spells almost as violent and masterful as Grindelwald's lieutenant. They were now fighting so quickly, that the observers, well protected by invisible shields, couldn't register how quickly each attack occurred.

The magic had heated the room so, that the resulting heat haze was making it difficult to see, and the stone had given away to the spells and high temperatures, cracking like desert land in places. The duellers continued to fight ruthlessly aiming to kill each other, despite the minor injuries they had both sustained, but neither was proving to be superior to the other. They were so close now, that the jets of light could not be told apart and; with their wands crossed, it looked like a sword fight.

Perhaps this image gave Bellatrix the idea on how to disentangle from the dead end of the magical power comparison she had found herself in, because, suddenly, she retrieved her wand from the meeting point and flicked it like a stick; she had conjured a long, silver sword that she grabbed with her non-wand hand and swished it in front of her.

It was the first time that Wotan Wittelsbach's eyes registered utter astonishment and he had no time to avoid her. The blade slashed a thin, bloody line on his upper abdomen and he let out a cry of pain.

"You little-" he yelled blinded with rage. "You want it old-fashioned, your Highness?" And he conjured a sword himself, longer and much heavier than the girl's.

Bellatrix had seized the opportunity to gain some distance and rest with another backflip. She landed on one knee like a cat, and fired a spell. It flew through the room and Wittelsbach nearly didn't have time to absorb it with his wand. But Bellatrix' magic had been so powerful, the poor wand couldn't handle it and cracked. The injury it had suffered was not that severe and its cracking sound rather delicate, but the shock of both its master and of the audience seemed to have enhanced it; it echoed on the stone walls.

The duel now got more fascinating and bizarre. The grown man, aware that his wand could no longer perform powerful magic for it could break completely, was favouring the sword more and more. And so was Bellatrix, because the extensive use of magic and heat had tired her small body greatly.

The odd couple had initiated a full scale sword duel with magical twists. The swords twirled, met and then slashed the air again, ready for another attack. Wittelsbach kept mildly cursing Bellatrix, but she seemed to have a different approach on this weird situation. Somehow her own sword, unlike any Muggle weapon, was able to deflect simple jinxes, contain curses and even release them as the blades clashed, inflicting a minor shock wave to the other. Essentially it gave her a second wand.

Wittelsbach was starting to realise that the duel had to come to a close soon, or things could easily get out of hand. Mustering his strength, he tricked the young girl: he raised his sword high above his head, forcing her to swing her own diagonally upwards and leaving her lower body defenseless. The moment Bellatrix' blade discharged another jolt of electricity, Wittelsbach got a clear shot at her right leg, aiming precisely at the femoral artery. The girl was soaked in blood the next second and down on her knees. Feeling that she would bleed out in mere minutes, it was her turn to decide to put a quick end to the encounter, and, when she shot back up to her full height, blue flames were dancing malevolently in her eyes.

Bellatrix flicked her wand lightly and the ground they were both standing on was elevated several meters off the rest of the arena. She broke into a run and kicked the lieutenant on the chest with a jump. He fell off the platform and on his side.

Bellatrix landed over him, wand and sword offensively in front of her, and he barely managed to deflect the hit in the same way. Bellatrix, a triumphant cry escaping her lips, placed both her weapons between his raised arms and spread them, severing them both from the elbows down, and even injuring deeply his left leg with the sword. The dismembered limbs fell lifelessly on the ground with a sickening thud, his weapons rolled aimlessly away.

"On your knees," Bellatrix said deadly.

Wittelsbach looked up at her, begging, but there was no mercy in the violet eyes. He tried to kneel, and Bellatrix crossed her wand and sword in front of his throat, content and panting.

The man now, despite his towering height and rough face, resembled an overgrown baby. He jerked his head spastically in a silent struggle and he went cross-eyed as he tried to follow the wand and sword, as if by looking at them pleadingly enough they would lose their murderous qualities. Bellatrix stood there for a second, enjoying her triumph and taking in his terror, and then turned to Voldemort, who had been observing the duel with unflagging interest and had not missed a single second. This was the most important part of the night: was the future Death Eater willing to kill -murder- an unarmed prisoner who pled for his life like an injured puppy? He inclined his head for a final time and-

Bellatrix, without the slightest hesitation, brought together her weapons. The electrified blade and the jet of magic met exactly on the man's neck, cutting it through and through in a clean, perfect manner. His last cry for mercy was smothered by the clash.

The young girl smiled at the headless corpse: "Told you the Dark Lord is always right."

And the next moment her own legs gave out and she collapsed on the cold floor.

Some of the observing Death Eaters made involuntary movements towards her, but Voldemort raised a white hand and signaled them to stay put. This was Bellatrix' time only, she had to do it alone.

The girl seemed to be getting a hold on herself again, for she forced herself on her back and blindly fiddled with her dress. She managed to pull it up enough to get a clear view of the deep injury on her thigh, and mended it with Dark Magic.

Bellatrix rose to her feet slowly, and walked through the messy arena towards Voldemort's throne. She knelt on the first step, panting, and offered him both her own weapons and her opponent's, without uttering a word.

Voldemort's fiery eyes were roaming the respectful child in front of him, once in a while flickering around at the destroyed room too, as if he were trying to compromise her actions with her looks. He waved his wand yet again, and the stone walls dissolved to reveal a dark forest under the twilight. The trees were shivering from the wind and an owl was hooting mournfully in the distance.

"All rise," the Dark Lord said formally.

The sitting Death Eaters leapt to their feet and formed a much closer circle around their lord and Bellatrix, who remained at Voldemort's feet completely immobile.

"A monumental duel," he said softly, "an example of skill and mind-power few possess. Excellent qualities associated with nature's nobility: the pureblooded witch and wizard. And vital characteristics for those who wish to join my ranks."

He took the weapons of the fallen lieutenant from Bellatrix' grip, threw the sword away, over his followers' heads, and held up the wand that had no master anymore. He touched it lightly with the yew, and the end emitted silver and golden sparks, before returning it to its new master. The soft wind was stroking Bellatrix' long hair, making it fly around her like a dark cloud.

"Woman, my young apprentice, you entered this duel a child, now a Dark Witch you will rise.

Do you, Bellatrix Black, accept to join the Knights of Walburgis in their noble cause of cleansing the Wizarding World and restoring natural order?"

"I do," Bellatrix answered clearly.

"And do you swear to remain faithful for the rest of your life to the cause, devote yourself to the best of your ability to it and even face mortal peril to achieve this?"

"Yes, I do," Bellatrix repeated without her voice failing.

"And," Voldemort made a dramatic pause, "do you pledge yourself to Lord Voldemort, agreeing to recognise him as your sole master and teacher, and feel the outmost respect and loyalty towards him, to the day you die?"

"With the deepest pleasure and honour, my Master."

"Then you may rise, my young lieutenant."

Bellatrix stood up, her eyes still avoiding her lord's in respect.

"Hold out your wand, my new Apprentice."

Their wand-tips met and a blinding violet beam erupted between them. The beam travelled in the air above Bellatrix and Voldemort, and finally took a spiraling downward course to end up over the girl's left arm. It burnt through the sleeve of her robes and branded a fiery tattoo on her white flesh, the design identical to the mosaic on the floor.

Bellatrix' eyes, wide with pride and awe, now found her master's, who looked more triumphant than ever.

"Welcome home, Bellatrix."

 _A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think._

 _A petticoat duel is the term used for a duel between women._


End file.
